


Smitten

by akitsuko



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, First Time, Love, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Episode: s05e11 They Did What?, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-12 11:01:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28759236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akitsuko/pseuds/akitsuko
Summary: It's cold outside, and Ed is on fire.Ed is head-over-heels in love with Oswald Cobblepot, the man currently in his lap.
Relationships: Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma
Comments: 6
Kudos: 94





	Smitten

**Author's Note:**

> Just some indulgent smut, inspired by a delightful piece of definitely-nsfw art by @Dragon_Asis on twitter. I couldn't help myself.  
> Also, I'm sad and it's helpful to write some sweetness.

It's cold outside, and Ed is on fire.

All of his skin is hot to the touch, every nerve ending primed and ready to be stimulated. He's never been more aware of his own body than he is right now - every scar, every protruding bone, every tiny abnormality.

Thankfully, the Penguin seems to appreciate his abnormalities.

The heat is concentrated in his cheeks, which he can feel are flushed and pink. There's sweat sticking his hair to his forehead. His lips are dry from taking all harsh breaths through his mouth, his tongue lax and useless.

Carefully, he rolls his hips upwards, his first movement in a long while. They had both needed a moment to adjust once he was fully sheathed, Oswald's trembling weight in his lap a novelty and a dream. Gentle though he tries to be, Oswald still gasps, his own pelvis jolting as his muscles clench and squeeze. 

Ed cannot focus like this, not buried deep and burning inside Oswald, not with Oswald bared just for him, not while Oswald's head is thrown back and his face is a vision of long-awaited bliss. How can he be expected to spare a thought for anything other than the stunning creature atop him?

Ed's smile is dopey, addled with the chemicals of lust and love overpowering his system, but Oswald's eyes are closed and he doesn't see it.

Their fingers tangled tight, again he rolls his hips, and this time it drives a low moan from Oswald's throat. His cock presses, hard and leaking, against Ed's belly. An unfamiliar sensation, to be sure, but Ed can imagine how it might feel for Oswald. He has a powerful imagination, after all. 

The pulsing of Oswald's insides, wrapping him slick and oh-so tight, is incredibly distracting.

"Oswald…"

It slips out of him unbidden, his voice foreign to his own ears. He never sounds this gravelly, this desperate. How this man drives him to the edge of himself, slices cleanly through his defences with a clawed hand to drag at the depths of his soul! 

Oswald wriggles, perhaps adjusting, perhaps experimenting with a little movement of his own. Either way, a wave of pleasure ripples through Ed's body, down to the tips of his toes and up to the top of his head. It snags his breath, consumes his consciousness. 

The desire to  _ take  _ is dizzying. To anchor Oswald by his hips, to plant his own feet on the mattress for the leverage to pound up into that heat. He wants to look down at where they're joined in the most carnal sense, to see Oswald's rim stretched around him and swallowing him with that same greed that he exercises in all other aspects of his life.

He mustn't, though. It's important. The magnitude of the trust Oswald has placed in him is humbling, and he has no intention of ruining it. No matter how badly he wants to ruin and wreck and utterly destroy.

It's in his genes, he supposes, this urge to decimate the things he loves.

Not this one.

His fingers twitch, nevertheless, with the strain of holding back.

Oswald's eyes blink open, one blue and one mesmerising green, to catch Ed staring up at him.

"Ed," he grinds out, his voice sounding as tensely strung as Ed feels. "This is… more than I ever dreamed…"

"I know. I know." 

Ed lowers their joined hands to lightly massage at Oswald's shaking thighs. There's nothing else he can say. He can hear everything that Oswald can't or won't voice aloud. The insistent presence of their shared history permeates the room with them, years of anger and denial and betrayal, and still somehow they've ended up here. Perhaps they were always going to.

He watches the irregular rise and fall of Oswald's chest as he tries to calm his breathing. His scars, some more familiar than others, stark contrasts against his pale complexion. Freckles dust his shoulders, making him seem younger than his years.

Oswald's eyes slide closed again, as though looking at Ed is too much for him right now. There's a furrow between his brows that Ed would stroke away if he had a hand to spare.

"Move," he groans. " _ Please." _

It would take a stronger man than Ed to deny such a request, but he still takes his time. It occurs to him that Oswald may be quite limited in his own range of motion in this position, leaving it up to Ed to dictate their pace. He can do that. He can take care of Oswald. Whatever Oswald might need, he will gladly provide, be that now or for the rest of their lives.

He thrusts upwards, shallow and slow but with intent, caught up in the way it makes Oswald's mouth hang open in a breathless gasp. He gets a glimpse of the wet and pink insides of his mouth, his sharp teeth and his vicious tongue. His own heart stutters in its rhythm, and he repeats the motion.

It's barely fucking. He's rocking Oswald in his lap, hardly pulling out at all, but Oswald is whining quietly anyway, a mottled flush blooming across his torso. Ed is struck momentarily dumb by the striking, unique beauty of him.

"I love you."

It isn't the first time he's said it, and it certainly won't be the last. Right now, it's the only coherent thought in his mind, overriding all his sensibilities in favour of making sure that Oswald is in no doubt about his sincerity.

Oswald whimpers, biting his lip. There's stickiness where their skin is touching, hot and perfect, and Ed wishes he could store this experience in a bottle, ready to comfort him on his darker days. An ideal tonic to almost anything the world could throw at him.

He bucks his hips up a little harder. This time Oswald cries out, a sinful sound as he bounces on his knees, the softer parts of him jiggling deliciously with the extra force.

_ Gorgeous,  _ Ed thinks. It's freezing outside, and he's irredeemably besotted, and he tightens his hold on Oswald's hands.


End file.
